image [https://i.imgur.com/xcQhW8Y.jpg]
Flames blanketed everything!
Jason stumbled through the few remaining shadows, struggling to block out the screams echoing around him. Within the shadows—the eerie black-and-white plane of existence his Shadow Step skill provided—most things appeared blurred, as if viewed through a fog whirling like a tornado. He could still make out recognizable shapes, and people stood out in the darkness like beacons of white light. But now, things were not going as he had thought as he sprinted through his shadowy realm.
The flames were consuming the Shadow Plane, flakes of ash swirling as the darkness collapsed behind him. Desperation streaked across Jason’s dark fae, cruel facial features as he frantically searched for a safe shadow to leap out of to safety.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Jason cried out. “What was I thinking going after that fire bitch!”
Up ahead was the entrance back into the temple where everyone was trying to escape through the portal no bigger than a narrow doorway. It sort of reminded Jason of the narrow doorway that used to be on the tiny RV he used to live in before awakening within this sadistic paradise—he honestly loved it here... It was almost perfect, if not for losing his life multiple times to that fucking gooey bitch!
Jason tripped and stumbled as he leapt out of a shadow, rolling and sliding across the stone ground. Picking himself up off the ground, he wanted to groan as he took in the chamber—the goody-two-shoes Heather, Yua, Jeremy, and Rob were trying to help usher people through the portal. He glanced around, noticing Sophia standing not far from Aurelia... he wondered if he could rip her heart out once more before fleeing, but decided against it.
The screams outside the chamber made him rather nervous as the flames glowed all the way into the dungeon core’s chamber. Pulling his gaze away from the narrow escape everyone was frantically trying to get through and back to the chamber’s doorway, suddenly a green light burst out, washing away the crimson and gold glow.
~
Pain shot through my right shoulder as flames licked it in a slow burn. That flaming bitch had cast a wave of fire that hit our last line of defense, and now beastkin, vampires, and dungeon denizens burned, screamed, and died all around me. I would have been sent back for respawn too if not for the little bubble that flickered in and out. Warchief Hensley held out his staff, the old warg grunting and panting for air as he struggled to maintain his spell. But it was clear it wouldn’t last much longer against a champion—that was what she was, wasn’t she?
Much to my surprise, my old snack, Chicken-Lizard-Dinner, was standing beside the warg, holding both arms outstretched, pouring all his mana into Hensley’s barrier. It was the only thing keeping the flames from flooding into the chamber where everyone was escaping through the portal.
Is his name really Hensley, or is that my unique trait, Polyglot, translating his name into something I’m more familiar with?
Really, that’s what I’m thinking about right now?
Well, yeah. I wonder if I’ll run into an elf named Bob?
Fucking hell, Blake—focus!
Gritting my teeth, I buried the pain as I stood, my shoulder still smoldering in crimson and gold flames.
I didn’t care about all the death around me; in fact, I was emotionally dead to it. My biggest gripe was the annoyance that I couldn’t eat the corpses. Also, did I mention my shoulder hurt? That was a big portion of my thoughts at the moment. However, Aurelia—my Aislinn—was behind me inside this temple near the dungeon core, and these assholes were trying to get in there. I couldn’t allow that. I wouldn’t.
My mind went blank, all the random, incoherent chatter I had with myself quieting as I held out my left arm toward my enemy, my smoldering arm behind me. There was no call on the system, no thoughts or commands—just pure subconscious instinct and desire—as Necrotic Flame blasted out in a blaze of green with shimmers of purple, the wave blowing apart Hensley’s barrier and colliding into the crimson and gold flames.
Where the two opposing spells clashed, liquid plasma of mana formed, splashing out in all directions as my green inferno of death magic pushed back the scarlet and yellow fire. Everyone who survived the earlier onslaught on my side took that moment to flee into the temple. The old warg gave me one last glance before he too joined the others. I’ll admit, I was a bit saddened when the lizard, Redtail, joined him—I could have done with one last snack.
In the end, it was just me and the woman in red. Though she had an army behind her, they were an afterthought in the current clash of magic.
The green flames danced wildly around me, warping and manipulating the mana in the air. I marveled as my spell twisted the very essence of magic, flames flickering with shades of emerald and violet—nothing like when I used the system. But there was no time to ponder this sight. I needed to focus, to keep it going. If I lost my grip now, I’d be sent back to respawn—or worse, they’d seize the dungeon core before I could return, and I’d stay dead.
Time blurred as I continued casting my green flames—five minutes, maybe more—my mind utterly blank, consumed by the swirling mana forming my spell. The air hummed with energy, and sweat trickled down my brow—or was that black goo? Then, a heavy thud crashed beside me, shaking the stone ground beneath my feet. Raising an eyebrow, I glanced over to see a dwarf landing with a smirk. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he cracked a toothy grin.
“Aye, aren’t ye a stubborn wench,” he chuckled, his words thick and hard to decipher, which was surprising—Polyglot had usually done an amazing job until now.
Are dwarf accents just so thick that even the system has a hard time understanding them?
Before I could react, his hammer swung toward me, connecting squarely with my chest. The impact wasn’t just a jolt; it felt like gravity itself twisted and coiled around me. A shockwave exploded into and through me, warping the air with its force. Then, in a sudden burst, I was hurled backward, reality blurring as I tumbled through the air like a news reporter doing cartwheels in a hurricane during a live broadcast... while also coming face-to-face with a stop sign that got loose in the category five-million gale winds.
Seriously, why do all news reporters do live broadcasts in the middle of a natural disaster, all while telling everyone not to go outside? It’s like they have a few brain cells loose or something. Oh, right! I’m getting sidetracked—not my fault this time! It just sort of happens when you get the living shit knocked out of you!
In any case, my spell got cut off as I went blasting into the temple, past the portal and the last few people desperately trying to squeeze through the circular hole, past Aurelia, then the dungeon core, and splattering into the wall. I oozed down the wall, my body having completely liquefied.
As I pooled myself together on the ground, the dwarf who’d hit me, along with that dark-skinned woman in a red-scaled dress who’d been casting the fire, entered, flanked by as many soldiers as could fit through the doorway. A few of the casters that came with them were little, tiny, gnome-looking fucks. They were so cute with their little wizard hats and robes; I could eat them all up—literally!
The dwarf shot me a curious gaze as I reformed my body, weaving silk over my face as I glared at him.
This is bad! Aurelia can’t stop casting the portal, can she?
I was considering running my mouth to stall them, or maybe even better, challenge them to a dance-off—I mean, it worked in a movie, why not here? However, those thoughts were abruptly interrupted as three marble figures materialized before the core!
One statue depicted a woman, her form both fierce and graceful. She brandished a massive golden circular shield bedazzled with shimmering rubies. In her other hand, she grasped a splendid golden spear, akin to those wielded by archangels.
Another statue was a lean, muscular male who gripped a golden claymore, its blade adorned with intricate engravings and ornate details.
The third statue was a juggernaut of a man with muscles upon muscles and an impressive beard. He held a menacing double-ended battleaxe, its presence magnified by mesmerizing carvings.
Each weapon seemed to tell its own intricate tale as they shimmered in the marbled statues’ grasps. I went slack-jawed as I instantly recognized them from the dungeon stadium—the guardians of the dungeon core. If I had to guess, the core didn’t want a repeat of being taken and was now protecting itself.
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So glad I’m not fighting those statues.
There was no warning or even threats hurled. The ground instantly started shaking beneath me as each statue charged at the startled enemies. I didn’t bother paying attention to the fight as I too started running, only I made my mad dash to Aurelia. I passed the others from Earth as they joined the last few individuals clambering through the portal, until it was just me and my love.
“We need to go,” I urged, nervously bouncing on my heels.
Aurelia looked at me, and for a moment, I was back in the snow filled forest, Aislinn gazing at me, knowing the end was coming.
“You... you’re not coming?” I whispered.
“As soon as I move, my spell will end, and the portal will collapse on itself,” Aurelia smiled sadly. “I can’t go with you, my beloved.”
No! No! No!
I glanced over at the statues fighting. The dwarf had already turned the claymore wielder into rubble, and the axe wielder was missing an arm, while the shield-wielding spear fighter was being pushed back by flames, liquid gold dripping from her molten shield.
Time seemed to freeze as I locked eyes with Aurelia—my Aislinn. I may not remember all my past lives or the life I had with her, but I knew that what we had was more real than anything I’d ever known. It was so integral to my soul that I refused to watch her die. Not again. Never again!
A voice whispered in the back of my mind, “Touch the core, and ascend.” It played on repeat, teasing me. Only, it wasn’t a memory—that bitch was whispering into my head again. “Touch the core, and I’ll save her!”
I didn’t know what Magic wanted from me, but I knew there was some catch to it, some evil tragedy waiting to happen. But what other options did I have? I refused to leave Aislinn behind. I nodded to myself, to the woman whispering her manipulations into the back of my mind.
Smiling at Aislinn, I took a step backward toward the core. With a glance over at the statues, only the female one remained, but the dwarf was already charging at her. I pulled my gaze back to Aislinn, who silently pleaded for me to go without her.
“I love you,” I whispered, giving her one last smile before turning and thrusting my hand out, my palm slapping onto the circular dungeon core.
Time froze as my heart thudded in my ears—or well, metaphorically, you know, being quite literally a heartless bitch and all. It took all my strength to turn around, drawing my gaze back to Aislinn through what felt like molasses in the air. Yet, try as I might, I couldn’t wrench my hand from the core.
Horror washed over me as I realized Aislinn wasn’t moving, frozen in place as time itself had paused. The sight chilled me right to the core—and I’m not talking about the one I’m touching, more like the figurative, soul-deep kind—but what truly terrified me was standing right beside her.
There stood a nude woman with proportions so perfect they seemed unnatural, as if Barbie had sprung to life. Her skin was an ethereal blue, glowing and swirling with vaporous puffs of pink that faded in and out. Her hair, a stark contrast of swirling pink streaked with blue, framed her face—a face that bore eyes glowing a piercing, unnatural pink.
She was exactly as I had seen her in the Realm of Dreams, yet here she was, fleshed out in horrifying detail, with even the enemies frozen around us, oblivious to her presence.
“Magic,” I whispered, barely a breath escaping.
“Aw, took you long enough,” she sighed. Her voice was lilting, almost playful, yet the cruelty of her smile didn’t match the ethereal beauty of her face as she stepped nonchalantly past the frozen Aislinn toward me.
“You said you’d save her,” I growled, my voice low and threatening despite knowing I couldn’t do shit to her.
Magic paused, her expression pensive as she tapped her chin, then shrugged dismissively. “Why not.” She waved her hand casually, and Aislinn’s still, time-frozen form was unceremoniously tossed through the portal. My tension dissipated as quickly as it had mounted, but the predatory smile never left Magic’s face as she sauntered closer, each step measured and fluid, until she stood just inches away.
“So, ascension, huh? What does that mean for me?” I asked, my voice steadier now, though laced with suspicion.
I’m so dead.
“Aw, about that,” she frowned slightly, her tone turning apologetic yet remaining chillingly detached. “I’m afraid that’s not in your destiny. What I have planned for you is far more... grand.” Her eyes gleamed as she pointed at me for emphasis. “You see, my dear, you are one of her Titans. I’ve been searching for my sister for ages. Finding several of her children here was... exciting.”
“You, my little one, are part of that lineage. That’s why I manipulated events, including that vampire you’re so fond of. I prevented her from placing your soul into a body of her choosing. Instead, I ensured you received one of my own creations—an Eldritch Horror fragment. A failed creation, but one perfectly suited to harness your soul for what comes next,” she smiled, a chilling display of teeth.
“What comes next?” I managed.
“Earth isn’t your home. It’s your prison. And it’s dying. Or more accurately, my sister is dying, and she’s the lifeline for you Titans stranded on that manaless rock. She might last a couple hundred years more, at best. If Titans—or humanity, as you now call yourselves—are to survive, I need to bring Tartarus back here. I need to save my sister.”
Her expression brightened, a sinister sort of glee lighting up her features. “Oh, finding you was a delight. It meant I’d found my sister. But imagine my frustration when I couldn’t simply pull Tartarus to this realm due to its lack of mana. Worse yet, I can’t just flood it with my own mana to initiate a convergence. No, I needed a mana source from there, from my sister—overflowing with potential—and use it to detonate across the realm, to start the convergence and bring Tartarus—bring Earth—here. To bring my sister home to me.”
“I thought you said Earth was manaless,” I voiced, my confusion mounting.
“Your soul is made from mana in my sister’s image,” she replied, her smile fading into a grim line.
My eyes widened at the implication of her words. “You’re going to destroy my soul?” I whispered, anger lacing my voice.
This fucking bitch!
Magic nodded solemnly before her hand lashed out, her palm landing sharply against my chest. I felt one of my skills activate on its own, a skill I hadn’t chosen but one Magic had given me through the system. A hole opened in my chest as Stellar Void activated, my hand holding the dungeon core moving against my will. I struggled with all my might to drop the core, but my body wasn’t mine to control anymore—I was merely a puppet at Magic’s whim.
As the core disappeared into Stellar Void, Magic’s voice reached me for the last time, this time not with cruelty or a smile, but with what seemed like genuine sadness. “Know that with your sacrifice, you are saving your entire species. Goodbye, Blake, my Hopeless Crusader.”
“You really are a cunt, you know that?” I spat, glaring at her before giving her the biggest, most unnatural shit-eating grin of defiance I had.
It came instantly. As I died, there was no system notification this time around, no grand farewell—just an eerie silence as my body and soul detonated into nothingness.
~
Einarr drove his hammer into the final marble guardian protecting the dungeon core, a ritual he had performed many times across various dungeons on countless moons. This had become routine whenever a new world was assimilated into the Moons of Völuspá following a convergence: raid the newly formed dungeons and seize their cores for the Ascended Gods.
Neither Einarr nor Orlaith knew the ultimate fate of these cores. Heck, the dwarf wasn’t even sure if Galen, the mightiest of the Ascended’s champions, knew what the gods used them for. It was just common knowledge that dungeons emerged on worlds at the onset of a convergence, presumably to infuse those worlds with magic—a theory among many.
As the last guardian fell under his hammer’s weight, Einarr grunted with satisfaction. Turning to confront the vampire he had been eager to get his hands on, he paused, perplexed. The vampire had vanished. The portal had disappeared. Even the dungeon core was missing.
In their place stood the odd woman he’d reduced to black goo earlier—now somehow reformed. A glaring, bright orange hole was visible in her chest. Her orange eyes were wide in a silent scream as orange lightning burst from the void, striking and crumbling the temple around them. The lightning extended, hitting the dungeon walls, causing even them to collapse.
Einarr’s eyes widened in sheer horror. He spun around, sprinting toward Orlaith, but the woman with the hole in her chest detonated before he could reach her.
Hours later, Einarr awoke with a mountain’s worth of rock upon him. Pushing away debris, he struggled to his feet, pain shooting through his body. The dungeon ceiling had been obliterated, revealing a sky mockingly serene and brilliantly blue and pink as Völuspá shined down, contrasting starkly with the chaos below. His armor, bolstered by his skills, had shielded him from the worst of the blast, yet he was not unscathed.
His gaze dropped to his gruesomely twisted arm, where molten mithril had fused with his flesh and bone. Doubt gnawed at him: could any healer restore it, or was amputation inevitable?
As he surveyed the devastation, marveling at the vast expanse of sky where the dungeon ceiling once was, he noted the absence of the airships that had accompanied him—a dire sign.
A faint cough drew Einarr’s attention to a pile of rubble. Mustering all his strength and utilizing his skills, he unearthed Orlaith. He hadn’t reached her in time to prevent serious injury; half her face appeared melted away, and her left arm was missing. It was evident that only her magical barriers had kept her alive, though they hadn’t sufficed to prevent severe mutilation.
Einarr’s expression contorted with sorrow as he retrieved a healing potion from his bag of holding.
With a heavy heart, he administered the elixir to Orlaith. While the potion would save her life, it would also condemn her to a future marred by scars and deformity. He doubted any healer could undo the damage caused by a magic detonation of that scale, the mana infusing into her injuries. It would take an amazingly powerful healer to overcome the mana damage, and taking the potion only helped solidify that grim reality.
Resigned, Einarr downed a potion himself, the thought of bearing permanent scars gnawing at his pride. It was a better fate than those met by everyone else who had ventured into the depths of the dungeon with them, for only Einarr and Orlaith remained. Above, not even the airships had survived.
~
From over a hundred kilometers away, Anlyth staggered to her feet, pain sharp as a splinter piercing her skin. Around her, the airship was nothing but a twisted, gnarled wreck amidst the charred remnants of a once-verdant forest. Trees lay uprooted and broken, their limbs contorted in grotesque angles. The scene drained the color from the paladin’s face.
They had been en route back to the capital when a detonation—a force beyond any volcanic eruption they had witnessed—had blasted in a wave from the direction they had come, sending their airship careening out of the sky.
“What in th’ name o’ all tha’s holy happened?” Gimona spat, pushing herself up from the wreckage.
“Mana detonation,” Anlyth replied grimly.
Gimona shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve nivir seen a mana detonation do sumthin’ loik this.”
Anlyth remained silent, her eyes scanning the wreckage for any signs of life, but she found none.